


So Happy Together

by LdotRage



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon, Fire Emblem: Shin Monshou no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Boyfriends, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, How Do I Tag, M/M, Self-Indulgent, and they were roommates!, how do you tag it if there aren't any trigger warnings??, i can't tag something that's happy, oh god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 01:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17356037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdotRage/pseuds/LdotRage
Summary: Merric is grumpy, cold, and sleep-deprived. Marth can't play the ukelele very well. They love each other enough that it doesn't matter, though.





	So Happy Together

**Author's Note:**

> take this self-indulgent unabashed fluff that i wrote at like 3 am

When he finally arrived at his own doorstep, snow clinging to his trousers and snot frozen in his nostrils, Merric could have cried with relief.

For the love of Naga above, who had chosen to put this campus  _ here,  _ of all places? A million perfectly serviceable places to build a college in Archanea, and the founder of this place had said, “Hm, nope, I think I’ll put it on the outskirts of the mountain. If nothing else, our alumni will be able to genuinely say that they had to walk to school uphill both ways.”

Make no mistake: Merric didn’t regret his decision to attend such a prestigious university, even though it had wreaked havoc on his bank account and the student loans seemed to grow in size whenever he took his eyes off of them. He stood by his decision to pursue a degree. Sometimes, though, when he had two classes in one day, followed immediately by a shift at the campus bookstore, which was then followed by an arduous uphill trek back to his dorm that left him gasping for breath and freezing cold...

Well. He wouldn’t deny that it made a lifetime of work at McDonald's look glamorous by comparison.

Inhaling harshly through his frostbitten nose, Merric fumbled with his keys, his fingers numb despite his thick woolen mittens. Of course, since his luck was just fantastic today, he proceeded to drop the keys directly into the snow, and he very nearly actually cried.

Through sheer force of will, rather than cry, Merric fished the keys back out, shoved his house key into the lock, and practically broke the damn thing down in his haste to escape the cold. As soon as he’d made it over the threshold, he let out a long, lugubrious sigh and practically collapsed back against the door. His body weight made it close with a  _ bang,  _ which normally would have sent him into a fit of panicked apologies, but, frankly, he was too exhausted to be anxious right now.

Once he’d managed to catch his breath, Merric clumsily peeled off his wet mittens with his teeth, dropping them carelessly on the mat just inside the door. His boots were next, followed by his hat, but he was still too cold to even consider shucking his warm winter coat, so he just shoved his hands underneath his shirt, shivered, and stumbled his way to the nearby couch.

Collapsing face-first over the cushions, he let all the air out of his lungs. Naga, but he was tired. Professor Wendell was a damn good teacher, but despite―or perhaps because of―his innate teaching skills, his classes were ruthlessly hard. Not to mention the fact that, since the next semester was coming up, his shifts at the bookstore were becoming more and more grueling. Everyone needed textbooks, but no one had any idea which ones they needed―if one more person tried to tell him that they needed “a math book”, he was going to lose it.

With monumental effort, Merric rolled onto his back, his legs still hanging awkwardly over the armrest. For a moment, he debated the pros and cons of just crashing here for the night instead of trying to make the long journey back to his room. Then he pictured trying to make the much longer journey to class with an aching back, groaned aloud, and begrudgingly rolled off the couch.

The dorm was split into five small rooms. First, a living area, which consisted of a single couch, two rock-hard “plush” chairs, and a coffee table. Behind that was a kitchen/dining area, where his god-sent roommate had set up a microwave  _ and  _ a coffee machine on the counter, right next to the chipped sink and ancient stovetop oven. Then, upstairs, there were two identical bedrooms just large enough to fit a bed, desk, and closet; between them was a cramped bathroom, where you could barely squeeze between the shower and sink to reach the toilet.

All in all, it was actually a pretty luxurious dorm―he didn’t even have to share a room, and the downstairs area was quite nice despite its oldness―but, on days like these, Merric could muster nothing but contempt for the rickety old stairs and tacky, stained wallpaper. Rubbing a hand harshly across his eyes, he grumbled incoherently to himself as he climbed up towards his room. He’d had quite enough of climbing today, thank you very much. Why couldn’t the beds be on the  _ lower  _ level―?

Merric paused halfway up the stairs, fingers loosening on the handrail.

Now that he was a bit closer, the faint sound of music filtering through the paper-thin walls was much more evident. Not that he couldn’t have heard it downstairs, mind you―again, the walls weren’t exactly soundproof―but it was much clearer from here. He had been too distracted to hear it before, but, now, he could make out slow chords, just a bit off-tune, accompanied by a soft, familiar voice.

Curiosity piqued despite his overwhelming exhaustion, Merric took the rest of the stairs with a bit more vigor, passed by his own closed bedroom door, and instead peeked into the door just across from his, which was already propped open.

Sure enough, Marth was sitting on his bed, his ukelele cradled almost tenderly in his arms. He was strumming steadily and looking down at his phone, which was balanced precariously on his knee. Every time he switched chords, he would stop playing for a moment and look over at his fingertips as he rearranged them on the strings, then continue as if nothing had happened.

It wasn’t exactly the prettiest noise Merric had ever heard, seeing as how the song was constantly being interrupted by Marth’s little breaks and some of the chords were obviously slightly off. Still, he leaned against the doorframe and listened, watching Marth as he focused intently on his instrument.

After a few moments, he paused once again, taking one hand off of the ukelele to scroll on his phone. Then he carefully replaced both his hands, took a deep, steadying breath, and started strumming again. “Imagine―” he sung quietly, then abruptly stopped.

It took a second for Merric to realize that Marth’s fingers had fumbled on the strings. He had to pause a moment more, making sure they were in the right place this time before he tried again. This time, the strumming sounded somewhat better, if still not quite perfect.

“Imagine me and you. I do,” Marth began again, his voice low and slightly breathy; more of a whisper-sing than anything. “I think about... you...” He stopped singing to switch to another chord. “...day and night. It’s only...” Another difficult chord that he had to pause for. “...right.”

Ah. Now that Merric recognized the song, Marth’s off-key playing was more apparent. Still, a weary smile twitched at his lips as he listened to his boyfriend play and sing, reading the music attentively on his phone as he went.

When he reached the chorus, Marth took a slightly longer pause, followed by a deep breath, before he began strumming again―not quite so tentatively this time. “I can’t see me loving nobody but you for all my life,” he sung; his voice was still quiet, but it was a far cry from his earlier whisper. “When you’re with me―”

Whatever chord he’d been meaning to play next, it instead came out as something so unnervingly off-key that Merric physically shivered. Marth immediately stopped, glanced over at his fingers on the strings, and sighed. This time, rather than try again, he just lowered his ukelele to rest in his lap, turning off his phone with one hand.

“Welcome back,” he said before Merric could even think to announce his presence. Rolling his shoulders, which crackled like embers in a fire, he turned towards the door with a tired but genuine smile. “Good to see you didn’t freeze to death on the way home.”

Merric wasn’t quite in a good enough mood to smile at the joke, nor a bad enough mood to scowl. Instead, he just let out a soft sigh and made his way toward Marth, practically collapsing onto the bed next to him. “...It was a close call, honestly,” he croaked, letting his eyes slide shut.

Marth made a low, sympathetic noise in the back of his throat, gently brushing some of the snow-flecked hair out of Merric’s face. “Long day?” he guessed.

“You have no idea,” Merric grumbled. “I swear to Naga, if one more person tells me that they don’t remember the names of the classes they’re taking, I’m going to set fire to the whole damn store.”

With another soft hum, Marth pressed a brief kiss to his forehead, then pulled back. “Sounds pretty exhausting,” he said, and Merric made a short grunt of agreement. Then they fell back into a comfortable silence, both of them too tired to keep up the conversation.

After an indeterminate about of time―it could have been one minute or three hours; Merric was in no state to guess―Marth began to strum his ukelele again, slow and uncertain. This time, rather than sing, he just hummed under his breath, and this seemed to make the song go much smoother, though he still often had to pause between chords.

When he’d finished, Merric summoned up all of his strength and raised one hand, gently nudging Marth’s side in lieu of applauding. “You’re getting pretty good with that thing,” he said sincerely, cracking his eyelids open to stare blearily at Marth’s turned back, though he couldn’t quite muster up a smile.

Since Marth was sitting up on the side of the bed and Merric was laying down, Merric couldn’t see his boyfriend’s face. After a moment, though, Marth placed his hand over Merric’s, gripping it softly. The tips of his fingers were callused. “Thank you,” he said, his voice bashful but pleased, which was such a marked improvement from the anxious way he used to deflect all compliments that Merric was able to muster up a smile, after all.

Once keeping his hand in the air became too difficult, Merric allowed it to slide out of Marth’s grasp without fanfare, landing on the bed with a soft  _ thwump.  _ Again, he let out a long sigh―though this one was simply tired, rather than genuinely irritated―followed by an indistinct murmur that not even he could decipher.

His eyes had slipped shut again without his consent, but he could practically  _ hear _ the indulgent smile on Marth’s face. “Tired?”

Unable to spare the energy for a sarcastic response, Merric just mumbled  “Mmnn,” rolling onto his side and trying to draw his legs up onto the bed. Both of his knees ended up meeting resistence―one brushed against Marth’s side; the other hit the ukelele―but, before he could even think about apologizing, Marth smoothly slid out of the way and pushed him all the way onto the bed.

“There you go,” he said once Merric had gotten situated, curled up on the comforter like a large, disgruntled cat. “Comfy?” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, but the question was genuine.

In one last dying fit of good humor, Merric responded with a fake purr, pretending to nuzzle into the mattress like a drowsy kitten. He was rewarded with a genuine laugh from Marth, and, even though the loud noise hurt his ears a bit, he groggily decided that it was worth it.

After a long moment, Merric heard Marth stand up, the mattress creaking, and then the blanket underneath him began to move. He made a vague, dismayed noise, but Marth, traitor that he was, ignored him entirely, pulling the duvet out from underneath him until he was laying on the much colder bedsheets instead. Before he could make a genuine complaint, though, Marth wrapped the duvet around him, tucking it carefully underneath his body so that the cold air couldn’t reach him, and Merric deliriously decided that he had the best, most awesome boyfriend in the whole wide world.

He must have said something to that effect out loud without realizing it, because Marth chuckled again, his palm brushing against Merric’s cheek. “I happen to think that it’s you,” he whispered, “but thank you.”

Merric processed the words too slowly to respond, but, luckily, Marth just sat back down on the side of the bed, leaving him to his peace. A minute later, he began playing his ukelele again, and even that wasn’t enough to drag Merric out of his sleep, even though the fractured, halting chords were honestly too loud for comfort.

“Me and you,” he distantly heard Marth sing, “and... you and... me. No matter how they...” Merric barely noticed the incredibly long pause between chords; he was already starting to float away. “...toss the dice, it had to... be. The only one for... me... is you, and... you for... me. So happy together...”

With the familiar sound of Marth’s voice in his ears and the faint smell of Marth’s shampoo filling his nose, Merric buried his face into his boyfriend’s blanket and finally let himself drift into a dead sleep.

He awoke to a hand on his shoulder, shaking him insistently.

Letting out a long breath through his nose, Merric rolled over onto his other side, the blanket bunching up awkwardly underneath him. Unfortunately, the damned hand just found his other shoulder and continued to jostle him, forcing him back to his senses quite unwillingly.

“Merric,” said a faint, familiar voice. “Your alarm is going off.”

With a sharp exhale, Merric jerked away from the reaching hand, rolling back over and pressing his face pointedly into the mattress.

A moment later, the blankets were roughly yanked away, leaving him at the mercy of the freezing air and blinding lights, and Merric let out an elongated cry of protest, groping blindly in the air in an attempt to reclaim his last bastion against the morning. “Sorry, dear,” he heard Marth say, sounding far too amused to actually be sorry, “but you really do need to get up.”

“I’m up, I’m up!” Merric slurred, rolling onto his back, if only so that he could more easily wrap his arms around himself. After a moment, he slowly opened his eyes, blinking blearily up at his indistinct blur of a boyfriend. He swallowed a few times in an attempt to soothe the ache in his dry throat.

“Good morning,” he eventually managed to spit out.

“You have class in an hour.”

Merric groaned, his eyes slipping shut.

“I believe it’s with Professor Wendell.”

Merric groaned louder, then curled into a tight ball.

Marth, damn him, just laughed, though he did offer a comforting pat on the back. “I know, I know. Hate to be the bearer of bad news.” Then, with much less sympathy: “Although I seem to recall warning you  _ multiple times _ at the beginning of the semester that you were going to regret taking a morning class with  _ Wendell,  _ of all people.”

At that, Merric pried his eyes open again to shoot his boyfriend a withering glare, before burying his face back into the pillow. It was no use, though―he was already awake, albeit tired, and he couldn’t go back to sleep now if he tried. With another quiet groan, he slowly peeled himself off of the bedsheets, shivering against the cold air.

“Hate you,” he declared as soon as he was lucid enough to do so. “I hate you... so much.”

With a wry smile, Marth held out a mug of coffee.

Merric bolted into a sitting position, snatched the coffee out of Marth’s hands, and pressed the warm porcelain against his face. “I’ll consider forgiving you,” he said magnanimously, slouching low so that Marth’s shadow would protect his eyes from the harsh light.

“Good to know,” Marth snorted, draping the blanket back over Merric’s shoulders. “Don’t spill coffee on my bed.”

Merric hummed. “ ‘M not gonna,” he said drowsily, taking a tentative sip of the scalding-hot coffee. It burned his lips a little, but it was honestly worth it. Only then did it occur to him that he should add, “Thanks.”

“For the coffee, or for waking you up?”

“For letting me crash in your bed,” Merric corrected. “But thanks for those other things, too, I guess.”

Marth quirked an eyebrow quizzically, but he was grinning. “Well, you’re welcome, I guess. Sleepyhead.”

Taking a long sip of his coffee, Merric generously decided not to dignify that with a response. “Where’d you sleep?” he asked instead, genuinely curious whether Marth had somehow wriggled his way into the blankets last night, then wriggled back out to go make coffee, all without waking him up. It didn’t honestly seem too preposterous; he slept like a log.

“Your bed,” Marth responded. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“It’d be kind of hypocritical if I did.”

A hand landed gently on the back of his head, and Marth bent down to offer him a quick peck on the lips. “That’s true.”

With a long groan, Merric screwed up his entire face, twisting away as far as he could without using too many of his aching muscles.  _ “Ma-arth,” _ he whined, raising one hand to shield his eyes, “stand back  _ up,  _ I need you to block the light.”

At that, Marth threw his head back and laughed heartily, unwittingly making Merric’s head pound. “Oh, I see how it is,” he teased. “I can see that I’m not appreciated here. Perhaps I’ll just take my light-blocking talents elsewhere.”

As he stepped towards the door, Merric extended a hand in his general direction. “Noooo, Maaaaaarth,” he moaned, not daring to open his eyes long enough to send him a pleading look. Luckily for him, his boyfriend was some kind of angel, and, rather than just leaving Merric to his misery, he turned off the overhead light and instead clicked on the much dimmer (and less painful) lamp on his bedside table.

“Come downstairs when you’re ready,” he said as Merric cautiously peeled his eyelids open. “I’m making eggs.”

Gratitude welled up in Merric’s chest, and he let out a melodramatic groan, reclining back against the wall. “Stop being such a good boyfriend,” he complained. “You  _ know _ I can’t compete with coffee and eggs.”

Another loud, genuine laugh. “Oh, I know, alright,” Marth snickered. “That’s the idea. I plan to be the best damn boyfriend you ever had. I’ll ruin all other potential boyfriends for you, because I’ll be just  _ that _ good, and then you’ll never be able to break up with me.”

He punctuated his speech with a theatrical haughty toss of his head, and, at that moment, as affection crested over him like a typhoon, it struck Merric just how far they’d come since they started dating. He remembered the days when Marth avoided him because he was petrified he would mess up and get dumped; days when he spent half of his time reassuring Marth that he hadn’t done anything wrong; days when Marth wasn’t comfortable even holding his hand, much less casually accepting the title of “best boyfriend ever”.

Hastily stumbling onto his feet, Merric crossed the room in a few quick strides, wiped his lips with the back of his hand, and then kissed his boyfriend. The coffee sloshed dangerously in his mug, but none spilled. “Devious,” he mumbled after they’d pulled apart, wrapping an arm around Marth’s neck and hoping that he didn’t have morning breath.

Marth, for his part, just smiled softly, returning Merric’s embrace. “Naturally. It takes an evil mastermind like myself to be... what did you call me? ‘The best and most awesome boyfriend in the whole wide world’?” he ribbed. “Speaking of which, if my plans are to go according to plan, then I have to go make the eggs.”

Merric ducked his head. “...Over medium?”

“Sure thing,” Marth said fondly. Then he pressed his hand over Merric’s mouth. “Also, brush your teeth. You’ve got morning breath.”

“Yes,  _ mom,” _ Merric sighed into Marth’s palm, feigning an exasperated roll of his eyes. When Marth removed his hand, though, there was a huge, dopey grin on his face, and he couldn’t―nor did he particularly want to―stifle it.


End file.
